


And Eat It Too

by TonicHoliday



Category: Line of Duty
Genre: Birthday Cake, Breaking Up & Making Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonicHoliday/pseuds/TonicHoliday
Summary: Steve's all smiles on his thirtieth birthday, but there's something playing on his mind, and that something is Ted Hastings.
Relationships: Steve Arnott/Ted Hastings
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020





	And Eat It Too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asuralucier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/gifts).



Thirtieth birthdays should be celebrated with as much ceremony as possible. Presents, alcohol and friends provided enough distraction from dwelling on the concept of getting old. 

Steve wasn’t old though, and that was sort of the problem. 

Maneet’s covert operation of sneaking around the office seeking donations the week before Steve’s birthday resulted in an impressive cake. Ted put a fiver in for that, spent another thirty on a decent gift: a tie. A thin one, and allegedly the fashion. Or so the guy at Slaters said. He’d signed the giant card at Kate’s request, writing a sterile _Happy Birthday Steve_ in an available corner. He’d done his bit.

Steve arrived to find his desk piled high with gift-wrapped boxes. As a prank, Kate had wrapped everything on his desk too. The monitor, keyboard, mouse, individual pens and pencils, they all got the same treatment. Steve spent almost an hour opening everything, swivelling on his wrapped chair to thank those crowding him for their hilarious, ingenious, or generous gifts. Being the centre of attention left his cheeks pink, his eyes glistening like a wee cat who’d got the cream. 

Following the great opening, Maneet lowered the anticipated white box in front of him. The entire office baited their breath. What the box contained was obvious, but Steve pretended to guess all the same. His smile lit the room after he lifted the lid. No candles to avoid ruining the icing, the cake was decorated to resemble a shirt, tie and waistcoat, and Steve adored it. 

Work resumed as normal after that, with a promise that everyone could help themselves to a slice of waistcoat cake on their lunchbreaks, though the mood was noticeably lighter than the average Friday. Kate’s laughter and the hum of happy chatter carried to Ted’s office, where he kept himself busy. 

Eventually, he closed the door against it all, eager to lose himself in paperwork.

*

“Sir?”

Of late, Ted had realised that Steve had an irritating habit of knocking on doors he’d already opened. Noticing the plate of cake in the lad’s hand, he glanced at his watch: already ten minutes into his lunchbreak, and he hadn’t noticed. This was the hour he’d usually spend in the pokey staff kitchen with his sandwich, pork pie and crossword book. 

“No thanks,” Ted said, waving a hand towards the proffered plate, “Got to watch my figure.”

Steve closed the door behind him. “Thanks for the tie.” He placed the plate on the desk, the rectangular slice atop it housing the cake’s iced tie-knot and a tall piece of shirt collar. “It’s lovely. I’ll wear it.” 

Ted nodded, glancing up at him hesitantly. “Glad to hear it.” 

An awkward handful of seconds passed while Steve crossed his wrists behind his back and stood a little straighter—a familiar performance that came before he asked something he shouldn’t.

“I know you’ll probably say no, though I really hope you won’t.” He paused for a response but, finding none, continued. “I’m going for drinks at The Stag tonight. A lot of us are, and we might go for a curry afterwards. I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like to join me—us?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He looked away before Steve’s expression changed, for he knew what was coming and couldn’t bear to see it.

Steve asked, “Just one drink then?”

Ted looked at the cake he hadn’t asked for and turned down once already. Steve was always pushy, always got his way: another thing he’d only noticed recently. Well, he wouldn’t this time.

Before Ted managed a second polite refusal, Steve went on. “Look, we never said we wouldn’t socialise. It’s not like I’m asking you out on a date.”

“Not here,” Ted warned. His eyes returned to the cake, staring hard enough to bore a hole in it. This didn’t have to be as difficult as Steve was making it. Slowly, he shook his head. “Sorry, son.” 

“Fine.” Steve sank at the rejection. “Enjoy the cake.” 

Swallowing, Ted waited for the door to close again before raising his gaze. He watched Steve return to his desk through the window partition, the back of his waistcoat pulling tight across his back with his determined strides. Plucking one bottle from many at his desk, Steve turned on his heels and marched off to join the others. The office was largely empty, only a few chairs occupied. Everyone would be crammed into the kitchen, enjoying the cake and a glass of whatever was passed around. 

Drinking on the job, even if it was one glass, just wasn’t professional. So why did he ache to join them?

Sliding open his drawer, Ted peered down at the small Tupperware box containing his lunch he’d inevitably have to eat at his desk. He didn’t want a dry sandwich with margarine spread thin and cheese sliced thick. He didn’t want this atmosphere hanging over his head.

Closing the drawer, he laced his fingers on his lap. This was his choice. The way he’d ended things with Steve was the best course of action. He had to stick to his guns.

The cake’s splash of colour amongst the otherwise anaemic jumble of files on his desk broke Ted from his thoughts. His mouth watered. A quick glance through the window confirmed no one was looking. And what if they were? It was a square of cake. He wasn’t giving in to anything besides hunger by eating it. 

*

Kate’s disappointment when Ted confirmed his lack of attendance at the pub reminded him how irregularly he was acting. Showing his face would keep up appearances at least; he didn’t want suspicions raised. Having work to catch up on wasn’t exactly a lie either. A white one, perhaps. He gave it an hour until he turned up at The Stag, fashionably late they said. 

One drink wouldn’t hurt, and it’d be a nice change from the monotony of his flat and office. 

But one drink swiftly became another, Kate’s generosity in getting a round in making it a double too. After those, Ted’s inclination to run from social interaction with Steve was waning. The warmth of the good whiskey in his gut, the lively music and chatter, reminded him how empty it was back home. Enduring mild awkwardness was better than ostracising himself.

The safest option, once he decided to call it a night, was calling a cab. After saying his goodbyes, he waited for it outside. Rowdy sounds from within the pub seeped into the street whenever its door opened. The weather was bitter, cold enough to etch his breath into the air as he paced to stop his legs freezing in place. Only two others braved smoking, huddled together, pint glasses resting on the frosty windowsill. 

As the black cab pulled up to the kerb, window wound down a crack, the driver called, “Hastings?”

“That’s me.” Climbing into the back seat, Ted went to give his address through the partition but was interrupted by Steve jumping in behind him and closing the door. 

“I wanna talk to you,” Steve said. Pushing down the bench seat, he sat opposite him.

“We can talk at work,” Ted answered, troubled by the lad’s sudden, unavoidable appearance. The driver had already put them on the clock, apparently in no hurry to know their destination. 

“Not without the possibility of being overheard.”

“And you think this is better?” Ted scoffed and gestured towards the back of the cabby’s head.

Fastening his seatbelt, Steve sat back against the partition, folded his arms, and smirked. “We’ll talk at yours then.” 

Shaking his head, Ted opened the door. “No. No way.” Hopefully no one in The Stag would notice their argument, or their man of the hour rushing off. Even getting into the same cab could’ve raised eyebrows. 

“Where you off too mate?” the driver asked, tapping his Sat Nav’s screen impatiently. 

“What harm will it do?” Steve said, pulling the door closed again, ignoring the man behind him while looking intently at the one before him. “Think I can’t keep my hands off you or something, just ‘cause I’ve had a few?” 

“Steven!” 

“I don’t see why we have to be no contact. That’s not even professional, sir, it’s just stupid.” 

To stop Steve from going on, Ted shouted over him to the driver. “Seven Whiteburn Street.” Lowering his voice, he warned Steve to keep his mouth shut until they were out of the car. He’d had enough to drink to not consider the consequences of talking about things no one should overhear. 

*

Ted had looked at Steve all night and hadn’t realised he was wearing the tie he’d bought him. It looked grand, and it looked even better when Steve slid the knot slid down a half-inch, leaning against the kitchen counter as the kettle boiled noisily behind him. 

A cup of tea was all Ted had conceded to after they’d argued in whispers on his doorstep about whether Steve could come inside. Ted sat at the dining table, fingers laced atop it, trying not to think about what happened the last time Steve was under his roof. And the time before that.

“This has affected our jobs, right?” Steve asked, dropping teabags into the mugs he’d pulled off the draining board. 

“What do you mean, son?” 

“You said you were worried about it affecting our jobs.” He peered over his shoulder. “Us ‘pursuing an inappropriate relationship between colleagues’ if I remember correctly.” 

“You do,” Ted said, looking at his hands. He remembered every word of that conversation, how Steve had tried getting him to see the bigger picture, that nobody higher up gave a damn about AC-12’s collective personal life, that times had changed, even going as far as telling him about two of the admin girls who’d dated for almost a year right under Ted’s nose.

“I don’t think it did affect our jobs,” Steve said. “Not until you forced this wedge between us.” Finished pouring the drinks, he slid Ted’s tea across the table and took the seat opposite him. He seemed sober, but Ted knew he wouldn’t be having this conversation if he was. They never spoke this candidly. Things just happened.

Ted sighed. “Steve…” 

“Please don’t,” Steve said, without malice. “I’ve heard every one of your excuses.” He laughed, just a breath. “Back when you used to let me get close enough to hear excuses that is.” Ted had hurt him. He saw that hurt in his eyes as he blew on his tea. 

“You understand though,” Ted said, putting words in Steve’s mouth. 

“I understand that everything’s rules and regulations for you.” Reaching across the table, he placed his hand on the back of Ted’s. To both of their surprise, Ted didn’t pull away. “I’m off-duty now, sir, so I hope you don’t mind me saying that anyone who lives like that is an idiot.” 

Ted raised an eyebrow. “So, the rule-breakers are the enlightened few?” He smiled. “I’ll remember that during your next performance review.” 

Steve gripped his hand tighter. “Obviously that’s what this is all for: a promotion.” He tipped his head and flashed that cocky smile of his. That smile always crept under Ted’s skin, as warm and comforting as his favourite whiskey. “I’m guessing for you I’m just a mid-life crisis?”

“Cheeky gobshite.” 

After a sip of his tea, Steve’s face turned more serious. “How’ve you been?”

It must’ve been obvious that Ted was suffering. He was desperately lonely, feeling sorry for himself, and still coming to terms with a change in his life he thought would never happen. Roisin was gone, and of course he still loved her, but things happened for a reason. Looking across at Steve, he wasn’t sure what reason there was for needing him, for feeling so content holding his hand in his. Steve was right, trying to force these feelings away by putting space between them only made things worse. 

“Bad.” There, he’d said it. He’d been honest for once, instead of hiding behind a smile or a one-liner. The confession seemed to pain Steve, but he nodded as if he knew. How could he not have?

“I know.” Pushing his chair back, he stepped around the table and shuffled into the space between it and Ted. Ted always told him that his sitting on his lap made him feel like a dirty old man, but it didn’t now. The weight of his body was a relief. He relaxed into Steve’s arms as they encircled his shoulders, closing his eyes as he nosed into his dark hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Ted whispered. 

“I know.” When he pulled back, Ted turned into him, their lips meeting in a brief yet heartfelt kiss. “Should I call a cab?” Steve asked. “I will, if you want me to.”

Shaking his head, Ted ran his fingertips over Steve’s collar and down the length of his new tie. “Wouldn’t want to send you away on your birthday.” 

Steve slid Ted’s sleeve up to check his watch. “It’s not my birthday anymore.” 

Ted’s answer to that was another kiss. Whatever the day was, he wasn’t sending Steve away again.


End file.
